The Epilogue
by God's Demonic Messenger
Summary: Voldemort's dead, his minions defeated, but what does the Wizarding World really know about the man responsible for it all? The mythical Chosen One is, after all, just a man.
1. Two Months Later

/_ AUTHOR'S NOTE: _

_Before we get started, I'd just like to say that I, like many people, was not satisfied with the epilogue chapter present at the end of Deathly Hallows. I kicked around a lot of ideas on how the Potter story should end, how the loose ends should be closed, and how the Triumvirate of Heroism that is Harry, Ron, and Hermione should should proceed with their lives._

_Ultimately, I felt that they deserved proper recognition for all their actions, not just killing Voldemort. This story is about how that happens._

_It's not finished, I'm hoping releasing it to the public will spur some motivation to finish it. In order for that to work, I'm going to need some feedback, so if you like the story, please comment on it._

_Thanks in advance,_

_GodsDemonicMessenger_

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Harry Potter sat lounging on the couch in the Weasley's living room, a quill in one hand and a roll of parchment on his lap. Ron and Hermione sat around him with their own writing materials.

The Burrow was their safe haven. The press and the wizarding community in general had attempted to descend on them after the events at Hogwarts two months prior. It had become so impossible to find peace that Hermione had cast the Fidelius Charm on the place to keep them all out.

The three of them knew that the press couldn't be trusted to tell the truth about them so they'd resolved to tell it themselves.

They'd been at it for weeks. Just the three of them together, hashing out their story.

"Bit weird writing an autobiography at the age of eighteen," Ron said for what seemed like the hundredth time as he intermittently scribbled on his parchment.

Harry smiled at his friend's predictability. "You've got a point there Ron," he replied once again.

"I don't exactly have the best memory for details," he continued. "And it's not like we've ever written a book before."

"Better us than Rita Skeeter," Hermione piped in, contempt clear in her voice. "Besides, this won't be nearly as difficult as our sixth year. It's just a matter of putting down the facts."

Harry leaned his head back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling. "That may be so Hermione but we've been at this for weeks and we've barely scratched the surface. My head is swimming with facts. It makes me wish I had Dumbledore's Pensieve right now to help sort out the relevant stuff."

"We've been over this Harry," Hermione replied tiredly, still scribbling on her piece of parchment as she spoke. "The Pensieve is at Hogwarts and the place is locked down tight while they fix the damage. It's just not worth it to sneak in and get it.

"Besides, Muggles don't have things like that and they manage just fine."

Harry sat up. "I know, I know," he said.

Hermione looked up from her parchment and stretched her neck. She glanced at her watch and said, "Why don't we take another break. Mr. Weasley should be home soon and we can ask him about the situation at the Ministry."

"Yeah, okay," Harry replied. They each put down their quills and the pieces of parchment they'd been working on, partly finished outlines of their childhoods sketched across them. Hermione's was the longest, of course.

Together they rose, each stretching long where they stood, and as one they made their way toward the kitchen door.

"When do you reckon Mum'll be back from Bill and Fleur's?" Ron asked the other two.

"Probably around the same time your dad gets home Ron. She'll want to whip up something to eat for us before it gets too late," Hermione replied. "We should probably start picking vegetables for her, come to think of it."

They wandered out into the yard. Harry glanced at the perimeter of the property and saw the usual crowd of reporters and "fans" bunched up against the edge of the Fidelius Charm's influence. How they managed to know where to go when only Hermione, as Secret Keeper, could tell people the address Harry didn't know.

He quickly moved off to help Ginny feed the chickens as they waited for Mr. Weasley.

"They've got no shame, have they?" Ginny commented as he approached, dipping her head at the mass of people silently screaming outside the fence. She gave him a tender smile as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"None whatsoever," he replied as he straightened and began tossing grain to the chickens. "I keep hoping George will throw a Fanged Frisbee out there for old time's sake. They'd never see it coming; literally."

Ginny laughed in spite of herself. Fred's death had hit everyone hard but George had suffered the most from it. He spent most of his time cooped up in his old room, making good use of the Fidelius Charm's protection. He almost never came down for meals, opting instead to sneak down in the middle of the night for leftovers.

They'd managed to hold a proper burial for their friends before the media caught on to their scheme of secrecy and they'd been forced to resort to the Fidelius Charm to get a moment's peace.

"So how's the book coming?" Ginny finally asked, scattering another handful of seed into the chicken pen.

"Slowly," Harry replied. "Every time I think we're making progress I find out Hermione and Ron are trumping up my actions into some sort of heroic nonsense. Then I have to argue them down to something more realistic."

Ginny looked over at him wryly and said, "You do know that several of your actions were pretty heroic right?"

Harry groaned quietly. "Not you too Ginny, please!"

"Hey, all I'm saying is that very few twelve year olds have killed a basilisk with a sword," she replied. "And very few thirteen year olds have ever fended off a hundred dementors with a corporeal Patronus while time traveling.

"Sometimes Harry you're too modest for your own good," she continued. "It's good that you've got two friends to properly ground you; otherwise you'd claim you contributed nothing."

"Yeah, but I had a _lot _of help with all of it," Harry persisted. "And a lot of it wasluck."

Ginny snorted in brief laughter and said, "Harry, nobody alive is that lucky. If it was all luck you'd have to have been taking Felix Felicis every day for your whole life. You made your own luck."

"Yeah but—,"

"Look Harry, the three of you always managed to figure things out in the end. Why don't you stop trying to shout down their attempts to paint you as a hero and try to find a middle ground like you always do?" Ginny reasoned.

Harry couldn't find a way to think of a response to that, but he still wasn't convinced.

He'd been famous from birth, always believed to be some sort of hero, always perceived to be some sort of prodigy. "The Boy Who Lived" rapidly became "The Chosen One" and the entire wizarding world had looked to him, a seventeen year old boy, for salvation.

Before he could try and change the subject, a loud _crack _announced an arrival. He looked for the source and saw a rather hassled looking Mr. Weasley straightening his cloak and hat by the garden, muttering under his breath.

"Are you alright Mr. Weasley?" Harry called as he and Ginny put down the grain bags and made their way toward him. Mr. Weasley looked up and smiled tiredly.

"Yes Harry, yes. Another one tried to Apparate with me is all. I think I'm going to have to talk to Kingsley about them, this is getting ridiculous," he replied.

"I'm sorry Mr. Weasley. I really do think we should move back to Grimmauld Place. I don't want to keep putting you through this every day," Harry said. Ron and Hermione came out of the garden carrying a bundle of onions and potatoes and headed into the kitchen.

"No, no, it's alright," Mr. Weasley replied quickly. "Better to keep everyone together Harry, really. We just need to take proper steps, is all. We really don't mind Harry."

Before he could respond another loud _crack _was heard and Mrs. Weasley strode over carrying her special clock in one arm and hastily wiping away a few tears with the other. "Arthur, you're back!" she said loudly.

"Hello dear," Mr. Weasley said, giving his wife a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Well I best get started on supper then," she stated, a false brightness coloring her words. Harry knew she too still struggled with the loss of Fred. Though she'd no doubt deny it, Harry knew that Mrs. Weasley had loved Fred and George's antics.

Maybe not all of them, considering all the times she'd shouted at them since Harry had met the Weasleys, but enough.

A pang of guilt clutched at him again. His battle, his fault. All of them his fault. Lupin, Tonks, Fred. A vision of their lifeless bodies flashed rapidly in his mind for what seemed like the thousandth time. They'd given their lives for him. They were dead because of him.

Ginny grabbed his hand as they followed Mrs. Weasley toward the house and squeezed it. He looked up as she whispered, "Hey, don't you start thinking like that again Harry."

"How did you—"

"Think I can't even read your face after all this time?" she replied calmly. "Hermione told me about it. You think you didn't deserve their trust? You think you didn't earn their sacrifice? Voldemort's dead isn't he? You did what they wanted; you made their sacrifice count. They couldn't ask for more."

Harry didn't respond. He couldn't. He'd tried to explain to Ron and Hermione why he felt the way he did but they'd said basically the same thing. He didn't want to discuss it with Ginny too.

"Ah, Harry dear! Could you please help Ron skin the potatoes?" Mrs. Weasley asked brightly as they entered the kitchen, her eyes red from her trip to Bill and Fleur's house.

"Sure," Harry replied instantly, happy for the distraction. He moved off to the kitchen table and picked up a peeler. Though he and Ron were old enough to do magic, they hadn't had much time to practice the necessary spells to do the task magically.

Ginny and Hermione worked together with Mrs. Weasley, cutting onions and setting them aside for the soup.

The night wore on relatively pleasantly as they prepared dinner. They chatted about meaningless things, always avoiding discussing what was really on their minds. It had been like that for months. All the scars were still too raw to pick up where they left off.

The five of them worked together until after the sun had gone down. Harry could see by the light of the full moon that most of the busybodies had left from beyond the fence, leaving only a few dedicated souls behind to sleep in their tents.

The delicious smell of French onion soup, roast chicken, and scalloped potatoes filled the kitchen as they moved the dishes to the table. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny busied themselves by serving the others as they sat down at the table.

Harry waited for them to serve themselves before putting a spoonful of soup into his mouth. He smiled appreciatively and said, "The soup's delicious guys," he said happily.

"Thank you Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley replied, smiling. Ginny and Hermione smiled back at him.

"So Mr. Weasley, what's been going on at the Ministry?" Harry asked politely as they dug into their meal. They hadn't discussed the subject in a while. The situation had been too chaotic for too long to try and get any sort of coherent picture.

"Oh you know Harry, rebuilding," Mr. Weasley replied. "The other members of the Order and I have been busy picking up the pieces and rooting out those that willingly cooperated with the Death Eaters and relieving them of their posts. A lot of infrastructure was tossed out the window when Voldemort took over and we've been having a busy time trying to put it all back together."

"Any news on the Muggle-borns?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, some. We've managed to find a few families and help them back into their old lives," Mr. Weasley began sadly. "Unfortunately there are a lot that have simply gone missing and others that we're finding out didn't make it."

"How's Kingsley been doing as Minister Dad?" Ron asked, unsubtly attempting to change the subject.

"Rather well, considering everything he's been tasked to accomplish," Mr. Weasley replied more brightly. "What with the purge of collaborators from the Ministry, the chaos of a celebrating wizarding community, the dementors fleeing into villages, and tracking down Death Eaters that escaped the Battle, Kingsley's doing remarkably well."

"That's great," Harry said enthusiastically. "I always liked Kingsley."

The table lapsed into silence as they enjoyed their meal.

"Harry pass the gravy would you?" Ron asked after a few minutes.

"Sure thing," he replied as he grabbed the gravy tray and passed it along.

"So Harry, you wanted to know when the Malfoys were going to stand trial?" Mr. Weasley asked.

Harry looked up immediately. "Yeah I did. Did you find out?"

"I spoke with Kingsley about it after one of our meetings," Mr. Weasley replied. "Their trial was moved up a few days to make room for Dolohov and Yaxley's. It'll be tomorrow at 12 o'clock."

"You're kidding!" Harry exclaimed. He thought hard about this new information. There wasn't going to be much time…

"Alright, I'm going in to work with you tomorrow Mr. Weasley," Harry finally said, an air of command in his voice again. Almost everyone voiced their surprise at this fact.

"Why Harry?! You don't need to testify to see them in prison!" Ginny demanded.

"Harry dear there's really no need! You know what the press will do when they see you!" Mrs. Weasley stated, her tone concerned.

"Harry I don't think that's a very good idea," Mr. Weasley said skeptically, no doubt remembering the people that had been trying to forcibly Apparate with him.

Only Ron and Hermione kept quiet. Harry had told them what he planned to do and why. Ron had resisted categorically, but Hermione had understood and brought Ron around. He still didn't look happy about it, though.

"Mr. Weasley, I have a few things I want to say to them before their trial and a few insights to present to the Court," Harry explained. "We can go at separate times and I can wear my Cloak until I reach them. I really have to do this."

Mr. Weasley looked at him skeptically for a moment before he said, "Alright Harry. I can't stop you after all. I just hope you know what you're doing."

"Don't worry," Harry replied calmly. "I do."

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The next day Harry got up early to get ready. The sun had not yet risen as he groggily got dressed.

He didn't have any nice clothes other than the ones he'd bought for the funerals and they weren't exactly appropriate for the day's events. Most of his wardrobe had never made it to the Burrow the previous year; he'd left so much of it at the Dursley's.

Instead he put on his worn out Muggle clothes and trainers. Not exactly formal attire, but better than the alternative.

He put his wand into his pocket and shook Ron awake. Groggily Ron rose from his bed, muttering quietly under his breath.

Harry watched as he made his way to his dresser in a daze and started pulling clothes out at random. After several tries, he'd amassed the necessary garments to get dressed and the two of them made their way down to the living room where Hermione was reading a book on the couch.

"We should eat something before we go down there," she said tiredly when she looked up. "I can only imagine the stares, and worse, we'd get if we tried to get food while we were there."

"Good point," Harry said. "Help us whip something up, would you?"

They worked silently to make a simple breakfast together. The resulting egg, bacon, and toast breakfast was leagues better than anything they'd had the previous year and they ate it quickly and without conversation.

Ron speared his eggs ferociously as he ate. Harry knew he didn't approve of what they planned to do that day but he'd agreed to come along anyway. Hermione kept quiet herself, no doubt trying to avoid a confrontation before they even got started.

When they'd finished their meal and made their way out into the yard Harry said, "Alright. I think our first stop should be Kingsley's office. He'll know which cell they're being held in and can arrange the rest of it from there. We should be able to talk to him about the people hounding your dad too Ron, maybe come up with a way to get them off his back."

"Harry, you know we won't all fit under the cloak," Hermione piped in. "How are we going to get there without being spotted?"

"It's early enough that the place should be mostly empty so we shouldn't really need the Cloak going in. We'll wear it anyway though, just in case," Harry replied. "As for leaving, once the place fills up no one's going to notice a few pairs of disembodied feet.

"Besides, Kingsley may come up with something else while we're there," he finished.

"Can I just say how odd it is we're breaking into the Ministry of Magic again when we should be able to come and go freely?" Ron said grudgingly to no one in particular.

Harry and Hermione shared a look of understanding. "Alright, let's get under the Cloak and get moving," Harry directed the other two. He pulled his father's Invisibility Cloak out from his jacket pocket and tossed it over the other two. He carefully shifted it to ensure it was covering them as completely as it could and then took hold of Hermione's left arm while Ron took hold of her right.

The three of them turned on the spot in unison and Disapparated together. The feeling of being compressed on all sides, unable to breath and surrounded by utter darkness engulfed him for a split second but then he felt firm ground underneath his feet. They had arrived safely at the Ministry of Magic.

They stood in the designated Apparition area, in one corner of the deserted Atrium.

As the three of them made their way toward the lifts, Harry glanced all around the room, looking for any sign of people. His eyes fell on the statue in the middle of the room. It had returned to its original appearance; a witch and wizard made of solid gold, surrounded by several magical creatures looking up at them with reverence.

Harry had grown to detest this statue, almost as much as Voldemort's grotesque replacement for it. It was this very notion of superiority that gave rise to Dark Wizards everywhere. Without it, Voldemort would never have gathered a following as large as he had; he never would have been able to take over.

He looked away before that train of thought could distract him. A small anxiety took root in the pit of his stomach as he continued to look around. The room, with its dimmed lighting and empty nature, was so like another time the three of them had been here that Harry couldn't help but panic a little.

But he did his best to convince himself to settle down. Unlike that time, Voldemort was very much gone and was definitely no longer inside Harry's head, feeding him lies to convince him to walk into a trap.

Very quickly they drew up to the lifts. Harry reached out from under the Cloak and pressed the call button. The lift doors immediately opened to admit them and the three friends stepped inside. Harry reached out and pressed the button for the Minister's floor and watched the doors slide noisily shut.

The lift clanged into motion and the three of them felt it descend further and further, the polite voice announcing each floor as they passed. As it passed each floor, Harry noticed just how deserted the Ministry was as he looked through the grating. No lights were on and no workers passed through the dark of any of the floors they passed.

Eventually, the lift slowed, then stopped and the doors opened as the friendly voice said, "Level One, Administration. Incorporating Interdepartmental Liaison and the Office of the Minister of Magic."

The golden lift doors opened and the three friends stepped out. Unlike most of the previous floors and the entrance hall itself, this floor was most definitely occupied. The hallway they stepped into was abuzz with the muffled sounds of witches and wizards in their offices.

Harried conversations drifted through doorways and occasionally a young witch or wizard would rush out of an office and down the hall into another. Harry didn't notice a single older witch or wizard amongst them. Most of them looked like they were fresh out of school.

"Blimey they must be busy," Ron whispered, "Working this hard before the place is even open."

"We're going to have to be careful," Harry whispered back. The three of them instinctively crouched down to hide their feet beneath the Invisibility Cloak and shuffled quickly and quietly down the hall.

"Alright, it's this way," Ron whispered. He led the way down the hall, past several intersecting hallways. Of the three, Ron was the only one that had ever visited the Minister's office. He'd gone with his father there shortly after the funerals to visit Kingsley.

They'd walked only a few feet down the hallway when they heard a voice filter through a doorway ahead of them. The voice sounded so near the door that they slowed in case the person decided to exit.

"I told you Isabella," the voice said importantly, "Kingsley _needs _that Temporary Patrolling Situation report _immediately_! He can't plan the defense of outlying Muggle villages without it!"

The speaker opened a door to the left of the three friends. They immediately attached themselves to the wall as evenly as possible.

A voice came back from inside the office, "And I told _you _that that report is useless! By the time I get it written up the information is out of date and the report's obsolete! Kingsley _knows _this! Why do you think he stopped asking for them a month ago?"

"He's been really busy if you haven't noticed," the man responded from the doorway. "You can't expect him to keep up with everything. That's what we're here for," he said self-importantly. Before the woman could respond, the man closed the door on her and walked toward the lift. He passed Harry with inches to spare.

The three of them let out the breath they'd been holding and stepped back into the middle of the hall.

They made their way through the rest of the hallways, following Ron through several turns.

They'd traveled together under the Invisibility Cloak so often that coordinating their movements wordlessly had become second nature. A light touch on the arm or a slight nudge was all it took to communicate.

Even with the added difficulty of having outgrown its girth they managed to sidestep every other obstacle and office worker without incident.

When they reached the ornate mahogany door that marked the entrance to Kingsley's office, the door opened and the three friends quickly moved aside to allow a tired looking older witch past. Pinned to her rich blue robes was a badge that identified her as Kingsley receptionist. Clutched in her hand was a roll of parchment tied neatly with a maroon ribbon.

As she passed, Harry and the others slipped through the heavy wooden door into the office.

Harry took a moment to look around. In front of him sat the receptionist's large mahogany desk, intricate patterns carved into its edge with sturdy, curved legs reaching down to the floor.

On top of the desk sat two stacks of papers, uniformly arranged with one stack on either side. A small glass cup with several owl feather quills in it was placed neatly in one corner.

Directly behind the receptionist's desk and chair stood another doorway, this one made of a hard looking black substance that looked incredibly like obsidian but carved with all manner of impressive magical creatures. The longer Harry looked at it the more types he saw; several dragons, including a Hungarian Horntail, several thestrals and even a few hippogriffs adorned its edge.

Inside the frame stood a dark, oak door. Its design was plain but tasteful, letting the flowing grain of the wood decorate it with a minimum of man-made design. Every few inches a curve was carved to accent the grain, making the door look very much like a curtain of water flowing downward.

The walls were all paneled in light-colored wood and under their feet was a lush, pine green carpet. There were several high-backed stuffed chairs set along the edge of the large room.

"I did not know he had a dedicated receptionist," Harry whispered after he'd ensured the doorway was sealed and they'd removed the Cloak.

"Of course he does Harry," Hermione whispered back. "He couldn't manage without one, not with all the problems he has to deal with."

"I should have thought of that," Harry replied. He looked around quickly. "This complicates things."

His eyes fell on a blank notepad on the receptionist's desk. "Ron pass me a piece of that, would you?"

"Sure," Ron replied immediately as he tore off a piece of parchment and handed it across.

"Hermione, is Grimmauld Place still protected by Dumbledore's Fidelius Charm?" he asked her as he pulled out his wand.

"Yes," Hermione answered as she stared at the piece of parchment in his hands.

Harry quickly used his wand to write the address of his godfather's house on the piece of paper. He carefully avoided writing its significance as well, trusting the Fidelius Charm to prevent anyone who had not been told by Dumbledore about it from seeing the writing.

He quickly used a Temporary Sticking Charm to affix the parchment to Kingsley's door and said, "C'mon, let's get inside before she gets back."

He ushered the other two toward the door and turned the handle.

He'd half expected some sort of alarm to go off as he did so, given Kingsley's status, but there was none.

The three friends rushed into the room just as the sound of approaching voices filtered through the heavy door to the hallway.

Hermione pulled out her wand and pointed it at Kingsley's door as it shut and whispered a few spells Harry knew all too well. They'd been their choice means of avoiding detection while they searched for the Horcruxes.

The three of them relaxed marginally, confident that the receptionist wouldn't notice that she was being dissuaded from entering her boss's office.

When Harry turned around he took an involuntary breath. Affixed to the wall directly across from the door was a large portrait of the most recent Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore, Lupin, Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, the Weasleys, and all the others Harry had seen pass through Grimmauld Place three years ago. He even saw the unmistakable moving image of Sirius Black in his dog form staring back at him seriously, the small piece tongue poking through his lips somewhat ruining the effect.

No caption adorned the image; no means of identification for those in it or of the Order to which they belonged.

He heard Hermione gasp next to him as well and he forced himself to look away. "I had no idea they had that picture taken," Hermione breathed.

"Now we know," Harry replied tersely. Just like the last picture he'd seen of the Order of the Phoenix, there were a number of people in that picture that were no longer alive; that had died in the process of fulfilling the Order's mission.

It was a depressing and somewhat disturbing fact and Harry did his best to avoid thinking about it as he looked around the room.

Unlike the outside office the room they stood in was not lavishly furnished. A simple, but comfortable looking chair sat behind a sturdy wooden desk. No plaques of achievement adorned the wall and no symbols of station sat on the cluttered desk.

In their place a large map of Europe covered one wall, small pins connected by gold string marking locations of dark magic activity. The heads of the pins were engraved with small pictures.

As Harry looked closer, he saw the unmistakable cowl of a dementor on one. When he looked around at the other pins, he saw Giant heads and small spiders and occasionally human faces on some of the others, as well as several other pictographs he didn't recognize.

In more than a few places images of surly looking wizards holding numbered placards were stuck at the crossroads of several golden strings.

As he watched, several new pins materialized, and a few of them were immediately connected to others by golden string.

On the desk sat a simple piece of engraved brass with Kingsley's name in large letters with the words "Minister of Magic" added beneath it in much smaller letters. His title seemed to have been added as almost an afterthought.

On the wall opposite the map stood a large Foe Glass and a small table with a full-sized Sneakoscope balanced perfectly on its surface. No distinct figures were visible in the Foe Glass, and a part of Harry felt a small relief at this fact.

"Kinglsey must not entertain many guests," Harry said dryly when he noticed that there was only one simple chair across from Kingsley's and the general lack of impressive-looking furnishings.

"Apparently not," Hermione said, smiling. She conjured three very comfortable-looking armchairs for them.

"You've gotten really good at that spell, Hermione," Harry said appreciatively as he turned his chair toward the door and sat down. It was indeed a very comfortable chair.

"Thank you," she replied as she and Ron turned their chairs around and sat. A patient silence stretched between them as they waited. Ron rested his head against his hand and closed his eyes.

"Harry," Hermione said after a moment, "how much do you plan to tell the court?"

"Not all that much," he replied. "Just enough to prove the Malfoys have recognized their mistake."

"But Harry," she said, "You know that some of your evidence comes from your visions. That's really not something you should reveal right now. You'd need to really explain it properly."

Harry looked across at her and said, "I know. But they all know I've been having them. Ever since Rita Skeeter published those stories in our fourth year, they've all known about them.

"I'll try to avoid mentioning them but if I absolutely have to I'll just say they are a 'result of unintentional dark magic on Voldemort's part.'"

The three of them sat in silence after that. They briefly heard the outer door open and close several minutes later. The sounds of the receptionist quickly moving about her space filtered through the door to Kingsley's office.

They stayed as quiet as possible, ready to spring into action should she try and open the door, but they soon heard the outer door close hard and the sounds the receptionist had been making disappear.

They had waited only a quarter of an hour after that when they heard the outer door open and close again, Kingsley's deep voice filtering through the thick oak door.

"Rolanda, please turn away any visitors for a while," they heard him say loudly. "I have some important guests to attend to right now. Could you also go and give this message to Arthur Weasley?"

"Yes Minister," they heard the receptionist respond. She sounded distinctly confused, no doubt wondering why she was being directed to deliver a message in person when they were so busy.

After a moment they heard the outer door close again.

"Alright you three," Kingsley said calmly. "Can I have my office back?"

Harry quickly opened the door while Hermione removed the charms from it.

Kingsley stood quietly outside the door. He wore deep purple robes and his single golden earring. He looked tired but somehow alert as well.

"Good call with the note," he began. "She was very perplexed by the blank parchment attached to my door when I met her in the hall.

"I'm not going to pretend to know why you felt it necessary to come here," he said as he strode through the door Harry held open for him, "but I assume you have a good reason."

Kingsley moved past them and sat down in his own chair. The three of them turned theirs back around and sat down again.

"It's a fairly good reason," Harry replied cryptically. Kingsley raised his eyebrows in question but Harry asked instead, "How've you been Kingsley?"

For a moment Harry thought he'd press the issue but then he said, "Extraordinarily busy. Far too much has needed my attention lately. Arthur and the other members of the Order have been hard at work finding the collaborators among the Ministry. It's been a very dirty task; as these things usually are. It's been a struggle to filter out those under the Imperius Curse from those acting of their own accord. False accusations and leads make the task very delicate but eventually a lot of seemingly good people end up on trial."

Kingsley paused to rub his face with his hands in an attempt to wake himself up. When he lowered them he said, "I'll only be able to stay here for about fifteen minutes and then I need to go chair a meeting on the progress of our various manhunts. So what did you three need from me?"

"We need to speak with the Malfoys before their hearing and I'd like to attend it," Harry replied.

"That can be arranged," Kingsley said, taking this declaration in stride. "May I ask why?"

"I have very good reason to believe they've genuinely seen the error of their ways," Harry replied. "But I want to make sure before I testify for them."

Kingsley raised his eyebrows in surprise. He looked to the other two, no doubt registering the look of grudging acceptance on Ron's face, and said, "I see. I assume you have a compelling reason for this belief?"

"I do," Harry replied confidently.

"Then I suppose I'll wait till the hearing for it," Kingsley said. "I'll be presiding over it after my other meetings. Wouldn't want to color my opinion before the trial."

He grabbed a piece of colored parchment and quickly wrote on it. After a flourish as he signed his name at the bottom, he tapped the parchment with his wand and it folded itself into a small paper airplane and flew toward the door where it stopped, hovering in place.

Ron quickly reached out and opened it and the airplane promptly flew out. He closed the door again as it passed.

"There. They'll be moved into a temporary holding cell two hours before the hearing. Those are down a level, by the old court rooms. But you'll have to talk to Francis Waldenberg first, current head of the Auror Office on Level Two. He's an old friend of mine, and he'll be expecting you." Kingsley said. "So how about you three? How have you been holding up? I've been meaning to check up on you but I just haven't found the time."

"Much better now that the press aren't breaking down our door," Ron stated darkly. "They keep trying to Apparate with my dad though."

"He mentioned that in the lift," Kingsley said. "I think I'll have to have a word with them about harassing government officials. How's the book coming?"

"Pretty well," Hermione replied. "We're just working on our outlines now. We haven't started work on the actual text yet."

"I can't deny I'm very interested in learning all the details," Kingsley said, a small smile spreading across his face. "When Arthur recruited me for the Order three years ago I was told that fighting Voldemort was going to be purely an adult's endeavor. I seem to remember Molly making quite a fuss about the twins trying to join."

"Some of us didn't have a choice," Harry replied dryly. "When the man himself marks you for execution and plans to do the deed personally, you can't exactly stay out of it because you're underage."

The sound of the receptionists return filtered through the door. "No, I don't suppose you can," Kingsley replied after a moment. "Still, you three did a remarkable job of it. I know I'm not the only one interested to learn how you managed it."

Harry tried to think of a way to change the subject. Kingsley must have seen him glancing about the room, because he immediately said, "I know you don't want to talk about it now Harry so I'm not going to press you for information. I'll just wait for the book.

"I just want to tell you how impressed we old Aurors, and the Ministry in general, are with you. However you managed it, we're impressed," he said.

"We had a lot of help and we were very lucky," Harry replied, trying to keep his irritation from his voice. He'd been saying the same thing to a great many people for a while, and he was getting thoroughly tired of it. "Besides, the master plan had been laid out by Dumbledore; he's the one that figured out how to beat Voldemort."

"Even so Harry," Kingsley said, "not many people can claim to have played a part in bringing him down, and none can say they did as much as you three."

He looked closely at Harry, no doubt seeing the way Harry's eyes glanced around the room and finally fixed on Kingsley's nameplate.

"That's all I'll say on the subject for now," Kingsley concluded. "Now, it's 5:15 in the morning and you've got an appointment at ten. You're welcome to use this office as a staging area or you can go up to Arthur's office on Level Two. It's probably better if you set up there since you'll be closer to Francis. It'll also mean you don't have to go sneaking through the building when it's truly crowded."

"I was thinking the same thing," Harry replied, rising from his chair. "Thanks for the help Kingsley."

"It'll be Harry's birthday in a few weeks," Hermione said brightly as she and Ron stood. She gracefully waved her wand and the three armchairs she'd conjured disappeared, "You should stop by the Burrow for it."

"I'll do my best to make it," Kingsley replied, smiling. "I have _greatly_ missed Molly's cooking." He gave Ron a wink as Ron snickered.

Kingsley moved to the door and opened it slightly to look out into the reception area.

"Rolanda, would you come in here a moment?" he asked through the gap.

"Don't put the Cloak back on." he whispered at Harry. Harry didn't bother to ask how he knew they'd brought it.

Rolanda pushed open the door and froze in the doorway. "Oh my lord," she whispered softly, her hand clasped over her heart. "Mr... Mr. Potter! It's- How-"

She looked quickly between Harry and Kingsley, apparently at a loss for words.

Kingsley smiled kindly at her and said, "Rolanda, this is Harry Potter," he gestured needlessly at Harry, "and his friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. I've given them permission to use this office for the day. They're here on personal business and are not to be disturbed should they return here.

"They will no doubt appreciate your discretion regarding their presence here," he concluded.

"Yes..." she replied feebly.

She took a deep breath and straightened her features before she tried again, "Yes Minister. Of course sir."

She turned to look at Harry and hesitated. He watched her steel herself and finally say, "It is an _honor_ to meet you Mr. Potter. If there's _anything _you need from me, anything at all, _please_ let me know."

Harry looked back at her awkwardly and said, "Right, er, thank you very much. I'll, er, do that. Thanks."

He watched as the receptionist beamed back at him before she turned away and headed back into her part of the office.

When he looked back at Kingsley he saw that Kingsley was barely managing to contain his laughter. "You did that on purpose," he stated accusingly.

"Maybe," Kingsley replied, unable to keep the laughter from his voice. Ron and Hermione settled for keeping their laughter below the receptionist's range of hearing.

"I'm going to have to ask for a cup of tea or something now," Harry said. "I can't very well _not _ask for something."

"Very true," Kingsley replied, smiling. He looked at his watch. "Alright, I need to go speak with a few people before my meeting. When you're done with your tea, head straight up to Arthur's office. Don't dawdle though; every minute you spend down here the rest of the building gets more crowded."

"We know," Harry replied.

Kingsley offered his hand and Harry took it and shook. "I'll see you at the hearing Harry."

"See you then," he replied. The three friends watched as Kingsley left the office.

After a few moments Harry said, "Right. Well I better ask her for that tea now."

He looked at his friends as he said it. Ron was trying and failing to keep a straight face and Hermione had shoved her fist in her mouth to keep from laughing. He shook his head and opened the door.

"Excuse me, Rolanda..."


	2. The Trial

/_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_

_I was made aware that this idea was fairly common here on by a friend of mine, but I hope my take on it is original enough to be forgiven for its conceptual unoriginality._

_ Again, if you're interested in seeing more of this story, please comment, preferably specific comments regarding the events in the chapter._

_ Thanks in advance,_

_ GodsDemonicMessenger_

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After they'd finished their well-prepared tea and biscuits they made their way to the Auror Headquarters under the Invisibility Cloak. They successfully sidestepped detection along the way, though there had been a fairly close call on the lift when they'd been forced to scrunch up in the corner to keep from touching the half dozen workers heading to parts unknown.

Luckily they only needed to rise one floor and they managed to slip out of the lift without being noticed.

Ron showed them to his father's new office. When they reached the door to it they looked around furtively. Surrounded by Aurors in cubicles, Harry reached through the folds of the Cloak and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Mr. Weasley called back. They carefully opened the door and slid into the room. Harry quickly removed the Invisibility Cloak.

"Ah, Harry, Ron, Hermione!" Mr. Weasley said, rising from his chair. "You made it!"

"Hi dad," Ron said, stifling a yawn. "We've been to see Kingsley up in his office. Poor bloke looks dead tired."

"Yes, he's been much busier than most," Mr. Weasley said sadly, successfully fighting off his own yawn.

"He said we should hang out here until the Malfoys arrive," Harry said. "We need to speak with Mr. Waldenberg about meeting them in their cell."

"Well then, make yourselves comfortable," Mr. Weasley said, conjuring up a few wooden chairs for them.

He glanced at his watch. "Excuse me, I need to get to a meeting. I'll be back in about an hour," he said hurriedly as he strode toward the door.

Mr. Weasley quickly opened the door and left, while the three of them sat down in their chairs and began to wait.

"I still don't understand why you have to do this Harry," Ron said, breaking the silence that had stretched between them. "I mean, Draco's been nothing but nasty to you, his mum's been the same, and his dad's tried to kill you!"

"We've been over this Ron-" Hermione began, only to be cut off.

"Draco may be the world's biggest git," Harry stated, "but he's no more a criminal than Stan Shunpike. And his mom may be a nasty piece of work but she's not a Death Eater and she made the right choice when it came down to it.

"As for Draco's dad," Harry said wryly, "well, I never said I'd get him _completely _off the hook. He's still a Death Eater and he's still guilty of plenty of crimes."

"That's something I suppose," Ron said grudgingly.

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Over the next couple of hours Mr. Weasley came and went, stopping just long enough each time to see if they needed anything. It was during one of these brief visits that they received directions to Mr. Waldenberg's office.

The sounds of the Aurors outside his office were not the jovial tones they'd been the last time Harry had visited this part of the Ministry. Now they were subdued and stressed. Quiet conversations were taking place all along the floor with rapidly moving witches and wizards traversing its length.

The three friends sat in silence, not wanting to alert the floor to their presence. They waited and rested until finally Harry glanced down at his watch and said, "Alright, it's quarter to ten. Let's go see Mr. Waldenberg."

The three of them got up quickly. Hermione waved her wand and made the three wooden chairs disappear, then the three of them got back under the Invisibility Cloak.

Harry slowly opened the door to Mr. Weasley's office and looked through the crack. "It's clear, let's go," he whispered.

They slipped through the gap and snuck through the floor. It was mostly empty, which made Harry suspect that some meeting was taking place then.

They made their way silently through the cubicles toward Mr. Waldenberg's office at the back. When they reached it, Harry knocked quietly but firmly on the door.

"Enter," a quiet voice said. Harry reached for the knob and turned it. He pulled the door open just far enough to permit the three of them and they slipped in and shut the door again.

Harry removed his Invisibility Cloak and looked around. "Mr. Waldenberg?" he asked into the dimly lit office.

"That's some Cloak you've got there Mr. Potter," a small man behind the only desk in the room said in the same quiet voice. "This floor's been charmed to prevent Invisibility Cloaks from functioning within it."

"Oh," Harry replied. The fact that his cloak functioned when others didn't wasn't particularly surprising to him, given its origin, but he felt no desire to explain. "Er, it's a very special cloak."

"I can see that," the man replied. He stood up behind his desk and moved out from behind it.

He calmly walked toward the three friends and stretched out his hand, "Francis Waldenberg."

"Harry Potter," Harry said formally, grasping the outstretched hand and shaking it with a smile, one that Mr. Waldenberg didn't return.

"I understand you intend to testify for the Malfoys," Waldenberg stated without inflection. He stared at Harry with a blank expression as he released Harry's hand.

"I do," Harry replied cautiously. As an Auror, the man across from him no doubt wanted all three of them to serve life sentences in Azkaban.

"You realize the charges against them, if convicted, would land them all behind bars for the rest of their lives?" Mr. Waldenberg said blandly, confirming his suspicions.

"I do," Harry replied.

"And yet you still believe they deserve to go free?"

"That's correct."

"You must have some truly compelling evidence to present to the Court then," Waldenberg replied.

"I think so," Harry replied.

"Care to share it?"

"No."

"Alright then. Right this way Mr. Potter. You'll want to put that Special Cloak back on."

He led the way out of his office. They walked back toward the lift and made their way inside.

The lift descended slowly and stopped at the next level, where a witch in the uniform of the Unspeakables entered. She looked briefly at Mr. Waldenberg, apparently standing alone in the lift, before turning around without a word.

The lift shuddered back into life for a brief trip and then stopped, the cool, emotionless voice announcing, "Department of Mysteries."

As the lift doors opened the witch exited and the others followed.

Harry did his best to avoid looking at the nondescript door at the end of the corridor that led to the Department of Mysteries. Far too many bad memories.

Instead of heading toward it, they collectively turned left and headed down the long stairway that led to Courtroom Ten, where Harry had been tried for underage magic.

They traveled in silence as they descended the long staircase, and continued to maintain their silence as they walked along the rough stone corridor at the bottom, passing several heavy wooden doors along the way. Eventually they stopped next to one and Mr. Waldenberg took a keyring from his cloak pocket. After selecting a heavy brass key, he unlocked the door. He waved one arm as if presenting the room to them and stepped back out of the way.

The three friends stepped into the small cell and Mr. Waldenberg locked the door behind them.

The three Malfoys sat chained to the back wall, with just enough slack in the chain to allow them to move along the wall's length. They looked around cautiously, unable to see the three friends.

Harry had never seen them look so pathetic. Each of them was even more pale than usual, a side effect of spending so much time locked in an isolated cell in Azkaban. Their clothes, which had once been some of the finest Harry had seen at Hogwarts, hung with the accumulated grime of two months in a filthy Azkaban cell from their frames. Their light blond hair was covered in dirt, whole clumps of it clinging together with grime.

"Who's there?" Lucius Malfoy asked, his voice lacking its usual arrogant tone. Instead he sounded pitiful, as if he'd already resigned himself to his fate.

In response, Harry removed his Cloak. The three of them looked down at the Malfoys' shocked faces.

"You!" Lucius cried, his indignation still not up to his usual standard.

"Us," Harry replied. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ron glaring down at the three of them.

"Come to gloat, Potter?" Lucius demanded. "Come to have your final word before they cart us off to Azkaban?"

"You really don't know me very well at all Lucius," Harry said in response. "No, I'm here to ask you a series of yes-or-no questions. I want you to answer them honestly and without elaboration. Do you understand?"

This last question he posed to Narcissa, and she nodded.

"Let's start with you Lucius," Harry said, turning to face the man on the ground. "Would you say that you received a warm welcome when you returned to your master's service?"

"You know very well the answer to that question Potter, you were-"

"Answer him!" his wife hissed next to him. He stared at her in shock.

"No," he said instinctively, his shock evident in his voice.

"Would you say that your master was forgiving of mistakes outside of your control?" Harry asked.

"...No."

"Thank you. Narcissa, would you say that Lord Voldemort respected your authority as a mother?" Harry asked, making eye contact with the woman huddled in rags on the ground.

"No," she replied, a certain edge in her reply.

"Would you say he sympathized with your love of Draco?"

"No."

"Would you say that he was understanding of your desire to protect him?"

"No."

"Thank you. Draco," Harry said, looking down at the man that had harassed him since he first set foot on the Hogwarts Express seven years ago; at the man he'd detested for almost the entire duration of those seven years.

"Would you say that Lord Voldemort's return was everything you'd been promised?"

"No," Draco replied after a moment, refusing to meet Harry's eyes. His voice quavered slightly. It was obvious he'd been crying recently.

"Would you say that he valued you as a person?"

"No."

"Would you say that he respected you as a wizard?"

"No."

"Would you say that you received tasks equal to your skill?"

At this, Draco looked up in realization and horror. He apparently didn't know that Harry knew about his "suicide mission."

"I didn't-" he cried, "He made me-"

"_Answer the question,_" Harry hissed, hoping to prevent him from saying too much. He knew the cell was probably being monitored.

"No!" Draco replied quickly.

"Thank you. That's all I wanted to know. You'll see us again at your trial," Harry stated as he turned to leave.

"Wait!" Lucius cried. "That's it? A couple of questions and you're done?!"

"I learned what I wanted to know," Harry replied bluntly.

"But-"

"Goodbye Lucius," Harry said coolly. He knocked on the cell door and it immediately opened for them. They left the room without another word and Mr. Waldenberg locked it behind them. The three friends got back underneath the Invisibility Cloak and the four of them made their way back down the corridor, up the stairs, and into the lift in the same isolated silence as they'd walked in on the way down.

When it reached Level Two, they made their way back to Waldenberg's office.

The four of them entered the room quietly. Waldenberg sat down behind his desk while Harry removed his Cloak.

"So," Waldenberg began in his quiet voice, "you seem to know a lot about the Malfoys' time with Lord Voldemort. If you weren't Harry Potter I'd be rather suspicious," he again looked up at Harry with that bland expression, giving none of his thoughts away.

"If this floor wasn't bewitched to prevent it, I might even think you were a Death Eater in disguise. You must have had access to some extremely privileged sources."

"_Privileged_ isn't exactly the word I'd choose," Harry replied, remembering all those nightmares he'd had and all those murders he'd been forced to witness.

"I see," Waldenberg said. "Well you'd better make your way back to Arthur's office," Waldenberg replied. "Kingsley asked me to escort you three to the hearing. Are all three of you going to testify?"

"No," Hermione replied. "Harry's the only one that saw any of it, we just know about it from him."

"Alright," Waldenberg replied. "In that case you two will need to sit in the stands."

"Right," Ron said.

The three of them excused themselves from the office and, under the protection of the Invisibility Cloak, made their way back to Mr. Weasley's office.

He wasn't there when they arrived so Hermione again conjured a set of plush armchairs and they began to wait.

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Mr. Weasley didn't return to his office before Mr. Waldenberg knocked on the door and entered an hour and a half later.

He silently waited for them to put their Cloak back on and led the way toward the lift.

"Their hearing's down in Courtroom Ten," he whispered softly as they entered the lift. "Mr. Potter, you'll need to head to the main entrance. I'll take your friends up to the balcony. You should probably hang onto your Special Cloak until Kingsley calls you in."

"Alright, thank you Mr. Waldenberg," Harry said.

They stood in silence as the lift descended slowly.

The disembodied female voice announced the floor again as the lift slowed to a stop and the doors opened.

They collectively turned left again and made their way back down the stairs and rough stone corridor. This time they passed all the heavy wood doors as they walked for several minutes.

Eventually, Mr. Waldenberg stopped outside the door to Courtroom Ten and said blandly, "Here we are. Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, if you'll follow me. Mr. Potter, the Malfoys are currently inside. The Minister will call you when he's ready."

"Thanks again Mr. Waldenberg," Harry replied. Ron and Hermione extricated themselves from beneath the Cloak and moved to the head Auror's side.

"Not at all Mr. Potter," he answered. "I look forward to hearing your testimony. Considering your relationship to the Malfoys, you must have some truly compelling evidence."

Harry wasn't sure how to respond to that so he simply nodded. _He _thought it was compelling evidence, but he wasn't certain the court would.

He watched the other three move back down the hall and enter a doorway. Alone beneath the cloak, he began to organize his story. He knew that only Narcissa and Draco were truly innocent. Lucius deserved to spend time behind bars for his part in Riddle's Diary, Sirius's death, and everything that followed and Harry had no intention of letting him escape all of his punishment.

At the same time, he did relinquish all loyalty to Voldemort in the end. And he probably wouldn't have been so willing if his past with Voldemort hadn't made it mandatory.

Voldemort demanded complete compliance from his Death Eaters and any disloyalty was severely punished, with Karkaroff's death being an excellent case in point. No matter what Lucius' personal feelings were, he hadn't had any choice in the matter.

Only a few minutes later a silvery lynx drifted silently through the locked door. The lynx radiated light like the moon, making it plain that it was a Patronus; one Harry had seen before. It opened its mouth and spoke in Kingsley's deep voice, "We're ready for you."

Harry steeled himself for the barrage of questions he would soon endure and quickly opened the door.

He heard Kingsley's voice drift down from his perch on the balcony above. The three Malfoys sat in the chairs in the middle of the deep pit of a courtroom, their limbs constrained by the chains Harry knew would move on their own to bind the chairs' occupants. Harry stepped carefully, allowing the deep shadows at the edges of the room to hide him.

"The Chair recognizes Harry James Potter as witness for the accused," Kingsley said clearly. Harry took this as his cue to step into the light filtering down through the chamber.

The reaction was immediate and really rather violent. An explosion of sound crashed over Harry as the witches and wizards presiding over the trial cried out in astonishment. There were so many people talking at once that he couldn't discern a single intelligible sentence.

Kingsley smashed his gavel loudly against his desk a dozen times before Harry could make out the words coming from his mouth, "Order! Order!" he was bellowing. The room slowly quieted to a loud whisper. Kingsley seemed to consider this an adequate improvement and said, "Mr. Potter, you believe you have evidence to present to this court that could sway our decision, is that correct?"

"Yes it is Minister," Harry replied. Kingsley appeared to be pretending not to be on a first name basis with him so Harry played along.

"Are we right to assume that you believe these three deserve a full pardon?" Kingsley asked next. There was another commotion as the witches and wizards voiced their shock at this.

"No, Minister, you are not," Harry replied. Kingsley raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak but Harry didn't let him. "You would be right to assume that I believe _two _of them deserve a full pardon while the third deserves a reduction of his sentence."

Kingsley nodded. Harry could tell he understood which people Harry was referring to. "Fair enough," he said, his deep voice easily reaching Harry through the whispers still buzzing around the room.

"Present your evidence," he stated.

Harry took a deep breath and began to tell his story, "In my fourth year at Hogwarts, I was entered into the Triwizard Tournament by Barty Crouch Jr. masquerading as my professor, Mad-Eye Moody, through the use of Polyjuice Potion. With his help, I successfully completed all the tasks of the Tournament and reached the Triwizard Cup. As the court is no doubt aware, the Cup was a portkey and I was transported to the gravestone of Lord Voldemort's father, in the village of Little Hangleton."

Harry felt a small measure of satisfaction as almost everyone in the room flinched at the sound of Voldemort's name.

"It was there that Voldemort called back all the Death Eaters that had evaded Azkaban," he stated as he looked to his left at Lucius. "Very few of them received a warm welcome from their master but Lucius Malfoy's was by far the coldest. He'd already made a serious mistake on top of failing to search for his master, and Lord Voldemort was not at all pleased with him."

"Mr. Potter, the court is already aware of this information," a mousy looking witch in the third row said eagerly. Harry had the impression she was waiting for some startling revelation.

"I know that," Harry replied impatiently, "but in order to understand why I think the Malfoys don't deserve the punishment you intend to give them you need to understand exactly what their position within Voldemort's ranks was. And it starts here."

"Continue Mr. Potter," Kingsley said. He gave a quelling glance at the mousy witch and then gestured with his hand to reinforce his words.

"Thank you," Harry said. "The next year, Lord Voldemort lured me to the Ministry of Magic by subtly convincing me that a friend of mine was being held captive there."

"Who was the friend?" a gangling wizard next to Kingsley asked. That same eagerness permeated his voice. It wasn't common knowledge that Sirius had been innocent, as there had been a few, slightly more important facts revealed that night.

"The identity of my friend is not important to this hearing," Harry said crisply. He took another deep breath, trying to quash his feelings of guilt at the memory, and continued more calmly than he felt, "As I was saying, I was lured to the Ministry of Magic by Voldemort. He had sent a party of his Death Eaters to lay in wait for me, led by Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. The events that transpired resulted in the rightful imprisonment of Mr. Malfoy.

"And here is where the situation changes," Harry stated darkly. "You see, Lucius Malfoy had already failed the Dark Lord twice. He was already feeling Voldemort's displeasure. This third failure placed him and his family firmly outside of Voldemort's good graces. It was at this point that the Malfoys ceased to be members of the organization completely and began to be prisoners of it."

Harry looked around. He could see the looks the other members of the court were giving the Malfoys. There was no pity on their faces; they looked down at the three of them, looks of satisfaction at this situation scrawled on their faces.

"You may think this fate was no more than they deserved and you wouldn't be wrong," Harry began, regaining their attention. "But it is at this point that the Malfoys began to see their mistake. It was at this point that they began to break the rules."

Harry glanced at Draco. He sat in his chair, his head down, refusing to look up at the court members or Harry. Harry knew that this next part of the story was extremely delicate. If he wasn't careful, it would be revealed that Draco had been the one to bring about the death of Dumbledore at the top of the Astronomy Tower.

Though Harry was somewhat confident it would not affect the trial, given the obvious coercion involved, it was a crime that would haunt him in society for the rest of his life. He'd forever be remembered as the boy that killed Dumbledore when society had needed him most.

"The following summer," Harry said, "Voldemort gave Draco Malfoy an impossible task. It was a task that Voldemort believed would inevitably result in his death. This, Voldemort felt, was a fitting punishment for Lucius's failures; to watch from a distance as their only son died attempting to accomplish his task.

"Narcissa Malfoy refused to let this happen," he continued, staring at Draco significantly to keep him quiet. He looked up at Harry on the verge of tears but thankfully kept his mouth shut. "At great personal risk she convinced one of Voldemort's closest advisers to submit to the Unbreakable Vow to protect her son."

"She and her husband defied Lord Voldemort right under his nose. Not out of spite or cruelty, but out of love. And luckily for them, their trust was well placed," Harry said dryly without elaborating.

"How do you know this Mr. Potter?" Kingsley asked. He looked down at Harry intensely.

"Because all that year I had made it my mission to figure out what Draco was up to," Harry replied. "There had been several warning signs and, since I was on the lookout for anything threatening after the events of the previous year, I noticed them all.

"I heard about the Unbreakable Vow when I was eavesdropping on him before Christmas break. I was also given a string of memories by the Death Eater in question that confirmed it."

"Who was this Death Eater?" another witch asked.

"His identity is irrelevant; he was killed during the Battle of Hogwarts and can't stand trial or be a witness," Harry dismissed, hoping they wouldn't press further. The witch however was not so keen on the idea. She opened her mouth to speak.

Thankfully Kingsley had caught on to who he was referring to and seemed to understand his desire for ambiguity because he spoke before she could, "Very well. Please continue Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded briefly in thanks. "The following year my friends and I were working to fulfill the plan Dumbledore had laid out for us," he continued, "We had nearly succeeded when we entered Hogwarts in search of the final piece of the puzzle.

"The events that transpired immediately after midnight struck are well known," Harry continued, steeling himself for the final part of his story, "What isn't well known is that after Voldemort had his troops retreat into the forbidden forest, I left the castle and sought them out. I had learned that in order to defeat Voldemort permanently, in order to finally make it possible for him to die, I had to let him kill me.

He paused, subconsciously trying to delay the coming reaction.

"So I did," Harry finally said. As he'd expected, another major commotion broke out at this admission. Harry tried to ignore it as best he could, and simply stared up at Kingsley as the room exploded.

Kingsley looked back down at him sharply, a look of mingled awe and disbelief on his face. "What are you talking about Harry?!" he demanded, resorting to his first name involuntarily. "You can't seriously be saying you let him hit you with the Killing Curse?!"

"I am," he replied.

"Preposterous!" one of the other wizards shouted.

"That's impossible!" another said.

Kingsley merely looked between the Malfoys and Harry. "Is this true?" he demanded from the Malfoys.

Narcissa squared her shoulders as best she could, given her position, and replied, "Yes. I watched the Dark Lord cast the Killing Curse at the boy and hit him. He didn't attempt to fight back."

Kingsley looked down at Harry in disbelief. "Unbelievable," he said, shaking his head. "Unbelievable!"

He stared down at Harry for a few moments, apparently at a loss for words. The other witches and wizards had grown silent as well.

Eventually Kingsley broke the silence, "I'd ask you how you survived, but I have a feeling the answer would be much too complicated and it's not really relevant to this hearing. You can be sure I'll be discussing this with you later though." He looked down meaningfully at Harry as he spoke.

"What happened next?"

"When I woke up, I heard that Voldemort had also fallen unconscious. I pretended to be dead but I knew that it would take very little effort to find out I wasn't," Harry continued, ignoring the stares he was receiving.

"But I was lucky," Harry said, a small smile spreading across his face. "Voldemort was surrounded by loyal followers but there were three people there whose continued service he didn't value. He directed the nearest to check if I was alive.

"Narcissa Malfoy walked over to me and checked for a pulse. She immediately felt my heart beating," Harry said. "Surrounded by giants, dementors, death eaters, and giant spiders, Narcissa asked me a question. With Lord Voldemort watching her closely, she risked her _life_ to ask me a question.

"What was the question?" Harry said rhetorically, looking around at the court, making eye contact with as many witches and wizards as he could. "What was the question she felt was worth risking her life for? What was the question she felt was worth defying Voldemort for?"

He paused again, letting his own questions hang in the air. Finally he said, "She asked me: '_Is Draco alive?_'" He paused again to let that sink in. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Draco look up at his mother in disbelief.

"She cared more about the safety of her son than the threat of Voldemort looming a handful of meters away," Harry said. "I answered her question honestly.

"After that, she had the information she wanted. She still could have chosen to tell Voldemort the truth," Harry said. "_But she didn't._ Surrounded by people that would not hesitate to kill her, she lied. She looked right at Voldemort and _lied_.

"Now I ask the court; is that the action you would expect from a true servant of the Dark Lord? Is defiance what you'd expect from a loyal Death Eater?

"The fact of the matter is that Narcissa and Draco Malfoy were bullied and threatened into compliance. They weren't collaborators; they were victims. Sure they _could_ have chosen to die instead of help, but Voldemort has ways of convincing people to do what he wants. I'd be willing to bet that a few days of Draco under the Cruciatus Curse would have been enough to make Narcissa and Draco thoughtless servants.

_"_And that's the whole point Minister," Harry said, staring up at Kingsley. "Mrs. Malfoy and Draco were given no choice _but _to do what they were told. They were placed inside Voldemort's direct influence the moment he returned, and he exerted that influence to get what he wanted.

"But I can tell you this; if Narcissa had chosen to tell Voldemort the truth in the Forbidden Forest that night, I'm almost certain we'd have failed to stop him at all," Harry concluded calmly. "If that fact alone isn't enough to warrant leniency, I don't know what is."

Silence met his words. The large, vaulted room which had buzzed with whispers ever since he walked in, sat utterly silent. As he looked around at the witches and wizards arrayed around him, sat in the tiered stands looking down at the pathetic forms of the Malfoys, he wondered if it had been enough.

Kingsley would understand; like Harry he knew who that unnamed Death Eater had been. He knew what Snape had done for the Cause after abandoning Voldemort; he knew how crucial his efforts were after Dumbledore gave him his second chance. He knew even if he didn't understand why. So Harry knew that Kingley would sympathize with Draco and Narcissa and understand the value of granting leniency.

But Harry had no idea what the rest of the court would decide. It was, after all, down to a vote. Kingley looked down at Harry, a look of grim contemplation on his face.

"Well Mr. Potter," he began, "It is the duty of this court to convict only those that deserve the punishment. As you're no doubt aware," the edge of his mouth twisted up into a humorless smirk, "we have plenty of deserving persons to deal with as it is."

He paused meaningfully and then said, "I don't personally see the need to add two more."

Kingsley leaned back in his chair and looked around the room, "All in favor of leniency for the Malfoys?"

Harry looked around the room. At first he thought he'd failed to convince anyone; no one raised their hand. But slowly, a few scattered hands rose into the air. Then a few more.

Their numbers increased slowly, inching closer and closer to a majority. Several of the witches and wizards in the front row looked long at the pitiful shapes huddled and chained in those rough wooden chairs before they too raised their hands.

The Malfoys looked up at them, not daring to hope. But as the number of raised hands continued to increase, the possibility of freedom took hold, and Harry could see the disbelief spread across their faces.

Harry watched as the last few stragglers made their decision. A muted feeling of triumph spread throughout his gut. It had worked; but a not-insignificant part of him, one he had worked very hard to convince otherwise, had wanted to fail. To have the decision taken out of his hands, to be able to say he'd given his best effort but that it hadn't been enough. To get to watch the man that had helped kill Sirius and the man that helped kill Dumbledore get carted off to Azkaban to rot in its dank depths.

"That's the majority. Motion passed," Kingsley said in his calm, deep voice, oblivious to Harry's confliction. "Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, you are cleared of Conspiracy to Subvert the Authority of the Ministry of Magic, use of one or more of the Unforgivable Curses, and Improper Use of Magic against Muggles, among all the other charges known Death Eaters are typically guilty of.

"Lucius Malfoy, according to the testimony of the other witnesses, you are found Guilty on all counts," before Lucius could voice his disbelief, Kingsley continued, "This court has granted you leniency. These charges would normally put any wizard in Azkaban for the remainder of their lives. Were the dementors still in our employ, they might even warrant subjecting you to the Dementor's Kiss.

"Mr. Potter, what punishment do you think is fair?" Kingsley asked.

"What?" Harry asked incredulously. He hadn't expected to be asked _that_ question. "I... I have no idea. I don't know the law."

"Be that as it may, I believe we'd all value your input," Kingsley said wryly. "As evidenced by the ruling we've just given. What do you think should happen to Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry tried to think fast. What punishment was fair? For all the things Lucius had done, what punishment was fair?

Lucius had intentionally given Ginny Voldemort's diary in order to frame Mr. Weasley for the death of the Muggle-borns at Hogwarts. That was before Voldemort had come back; he had no excuse for that.

And even if he _had _been afraid for his family and himself, he had still committed plenty of terrible crimes, including attempting to kill Harry on at least one occasion.

If Harry hadn't stepped in, Lucius would have gone to prison for at least sixty years, possibly as much as ninety. Leniency is one thing, but charity wouldn't be justice.

Harry made up his mind, "Fifteen years in Azkaban, with his estate and accounts returned to his family for their use."

Fifteen years was a long time, but a fair bit shorter than sixty, and quite a bit shorter than ninety. Enough time to forget what life was like outside the prison walls.

Alone and powerless, someone like Lucius, who reveled in feeling like they had influence, would no doubt find the experience excruciating. It was long enough to miss out on a good portion of Draco's life. But not all of it.

Lucius looked crestfallen, but didn't say a word. Narcissa simply looked firmly ahead, not looking anyone in the eye. Draco kept his eyes closed, as if unwilling to absorb any more information about his surroundings.

Kingsley looked down at Harry thoughtfully. "A fair punishment. Considering the crimes committed, fifteen years is lenient, but not a pardon.

"Does anyone have anything further to say?" He asked the people around him. The room burst back into overlapping voices, rising steadily in volume as each person tried to speak over the others.

"ANYTHING THAT IS NOT A QUESTION DIRECTED AT MR. POTTER?!" Kingsley bellowed over the rising noise, his voice magically magnified. Slowly, the noise subsided.

"_Will you marry me?!" _someone that sounded remarkably like an intern asked as the rest of the room fell silent. Everyone looked around for the source except for Kingsley, who shook his head wearily.

"Alright. That concludes this judicial hearing of July the 10th, 1998. Mrs. Malfoy, Draco, you will be escorted to an Interim Cell, where your possessions and wands will be returned and your Disciplinary Traces removed. Mr. Malfoy, you'll be returned to your cell pending transfer to Azkaban.

"Mr. Potter, you can leave now," Kingsley said.

Harry needed no further prompting. He turned around and walked swiftly to the door, pulling his Invisibility Cloak out of his jacket pocket as he went. When the darkness had engulfed him he slid it on and opened the door.

As he'd suspected, a crowd of reporters had shifted from the tiers overlooking the trial out into the hall, where they'd found Ron and Hermione waiting. The two of them did their best to avoid being trampled as the small crowd of reporters shifted toward the door.

When they saw no one exit through it, they stopped awkwardly, halfway between Harry and his two friends.

He took advantage of their confusion and slipped behind them, quickly covering Ron and Hermione in the Cloak. The three of them silently headed back down the rough stone corridor, occasionally glancing back at the baffled press and doing their best to stifle their laughter.


	3. Back in the Limelight

/_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_

_This is roughly where things start to take their turn toward my vision. I have a couple other later chapters finished, but I need the preceding ones before I can release those. _

_If you've gotten this far and are interested in seeing more, please comment regarding events in the chapter. _

_Thanks in advance,_

_GodsDemonicMessenger_

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"Alright Harry, I need to know the truth," Kingsley said two hours later. The four of them were in his surprisingly small office again. Hermione had conjured several more armchairs and the three friends were sitting across the desk from him. "Why did you go out into the Forbidden Forest?"

"Kingsley, that information is dangerous," Harry began hesitantly. "If the wrong sort of people found out how Voldemort was able to avoid death, you'd have hundreds of copycats down through the ages. It's not even going to make it into our book."

"All the more reason to tell me now," Kingsley countered. "If you're not going to be making it public, then there's no other way for me to learn it."

Harry glanced between his friends. Ron looked hesitant and Hermione conflicted, but Harry could tell that they both shared some amount of desire to tell him the truth.

The fact was that Harry did too. Ever since Harry had found out what Dumbledore's family did, ever since he found out just how secretive Dumbledore had been, he'd wanted to avoid making the same mistakes.

He wanted to avoid getting so embroiled in his secrets that he was too afraid to tell people information they needed to know. Their previous year would have been so much simpler if Dumbledore had just confided more in him.

On the other hand though, the fewer people that knew about the Horcruxes the better. With enough research, any Dark Wizard could learn to make one, and most would be too stupid or too arrogant to recognize the risks, much like Voldemort had been.

As far as they would care, the Horcruxes had been the sole reason Voldemort had been as dangerous as he was. How could any Dark Wizard possibly resist the allure?

Hermione looked at him and whispered, "I think we should Harry. He's the Minister of Magic now; he might need that information and it could do a lot to help people. Think about how much better prepared the Ministry would be if they knew what Voldemort did."

Harry briefly entertained the idea of ignoring her advice, but he knew it was true. As Minister, he could make it so that the Auror Office was better equipped against this sort of thing in the future. Then they wouldn't have to rely on geniuses and teenagers to fix it for them.

"Fine," Harry said with a sigh. "Fine. I'll tell you. But you need to promise to only tell people that actually _need_ to know. If this became common knowledge, the damage would be huge."

"Done," Kingsley said.

Harry sighed again, rubbing his hand against his forehead. Then he asked, "Have you ever heard of Horcruxes?"

Kingsley looked between them before he answered. "No. What are they?"

"It's a magical protection a Dark Wizard can make. A protection against death," Harry began. "If a Dark Wizard completes an enchantment, culminating in a murder, they can split their soul and embed one of the pieces in an object. That object would be highly resistant to damage, and so long as it was intact the Dark Wizard could not die. Even if their body were destroyed, they'd be tethered to life by their horcrux."

Harry let that sink in. The entire wizarding world had speculated about what magic Voldemort had used to avoid death, and Harry had just given Kingsley the answer. It was a rather significant piece of information.

After a while, Kingsley said, "I see. Please continue." His face was impassive and Harry could only guess what he was thinking.

"Well Voldemort did it too many times. He made his soul unstable. When my mother gave her life to protect me and Voldemort's killing curse rebounded, a fragment of his soul attached itself to me," Harry said. "That's why I could always speak Parseltongue."

"Snape gave me a memory that explained all of this. I watched it after Voldemort had his forces retreat back into the Forbidden Forest. I found out that the only way for Voldemort to be beaten was for him to kill the fragment of soul that was still attached to me. That's why I went into the Forest."

"But you knew you wouldn't die, right? Snape's memory explained that you wouldn't die?" Kingsley asked, his features unreadable.

"Well, no. Not really. Actually it sort of implied the opposite," Harry said uncomfortably.

Kingsley stared long and hard at Harry; so hard that Harry looked away instead of continue to meet his gaze.

"I see," he finally said. An awkward silence spread throughout the small room.

"So let me make sure I understand the situation," he began. "Voldemort made a number of Horcruxes and you, Ron, and Hermione had been searching for and destroying them for the entirety of the year. Which, in and of itself, is not an insignificant task. Having destroyed most of them, one of which I'm assuming was in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault in Gringotts, you came back to Hogwarts to search for another one, prompting the Battle.

"You must have found and destroyed that one too while we were fighting, and then Voldemort pulled back his forces. Snape gave you a memory at some point before he died that told you that in order to beat Voldemort, you would have to let Voldemort kill you. This memory inconveniently neglected to tell you that you'd survive.

"So, in the dead of night, you walked alone into the Forbidden Forest to your death. You let Voldemort hit you with the Killing Curse, Narcissa Malfoy lied to Voldemort, and you showed up to finish off Voldemort, ending the Second Wizarding War.

"Sound about right?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah," Harry replied awkwardly.

After a while, Kingsley spoke again. "Well, I was wrong. What you three accomplished wasn't impressive." He paused and looked across his table at each of them. "No, what you three accomplished was _quite_ a bit more than merely _impressive_. To track down and destroy several powerful and well-hidden magical artifacts on your own, without support, before you'd even gotten your N.E.W.T.s...

"Yes… Impressive doesn't even cover that," he shifted his gaze firmly onto Harry, "But _you_ Harry, put all of us to shame. It took courage for us to fight back that year, to organize a flailing resistance while Voldemort's Death Eaters did their best to follow our every move, but we had all the rest of the Order behind us. We had the Weasleys' large extended family, we had dozens of skilled witches and wizards, we had safe houses and escape routes, code words and backup plans. We had the ability to devise contingencies and carry them through.

"But not you lot. It was just you three against them all; no support, no safe houses, no contingencies, on the run and on the hunt _at the same time_. Your task alone required courage I don't think many in the Order could have managed. But to _walk_ willingly to your own _death _to stop Voldemort took courage of a sort I don't think _anyone_ else in the Order could have mustered."

Kingsley paused. "I certainly don't think I could."

Harry didn't have the faintest clue what to say to that. Thankfully, he was spared from having to by a knock on the door. Kingsley took one more significant look at Harry before he said, "Enter!"

Rolanda quickly eased open the door and poked her head in, "Sir, Dolohov's trial is starting in fifteen minutes; if you don't leave soon you're going to be late."

"Right, right. There's always something else," Kingsley said with a heavy sigh. "Well you three, my offer still stands; Auror status for anyone who fought during the Battle. I know Francis would jump at the chance to snap up any one of you. But I'm sure there are any number of positions available, if that doesn't sound appealing."

"But we haven't got our N.E.W.T.s!" Hermione said.

"Hermione, where are you going to get them? Hogwarts probably won't even open this year, or any year in the near future," Kingsley replied.

"What?!" she said almost shrilly. "Why?"

"Parents won't think it's safe; not after the Battle, the Carrows, and everything else. There's no confidence," he replied sadly as he stood and made for the door. "And we just don't have the time to change their minds. Not this year; not before term starts."

As Kingsley opened the door to leave, he looked over his shoulder and said, "You three are welcome to stay here, but it would probably be best if you made your way back to the Burrow as soon as possible. There's a meeting going on right now that's drawn out most of the folks on this floor. I'd take advantage of it."

With that he stepped fully through the doorway and closed the door behind him.

Harry looked across at his friends. Hermione looked like she _really_ wanted to say something, and Harry had an idea of what it was. He sighed.

"Just say it," he said.

"Oh Harry, you know that's what we've been saying for weeks now," she said quickly, as if at any moment Harry was going to leave the room as well. "We've been trying to tell you for ages!"

"I don't want to talk about it right now Hermione," he replied tiredly. "I just want to get back to the Burrow before it gets too late."

"There's no sense fighting it though, mate," Ron said quietly. "No matter what you say or how you put it, people are just going to reach the same conclusion. Might as well just tell it like it was."

"Can we just get going now?" Harry said irritably. "If we don't leave soon the place is going to get crowded again."

Hermione looked like she was going to say something for a moment, but then she closed her mouth and gave a slight nod.

"Thank you," Harry said, rising from his chair and pulling his Cloak out from his jacket pocket. Hermione waved away the three armchairs and then she and Ron got followed Harry to the door.

"Rolanda?" Harry said as he entered the receptionist's office.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" she said, immediately dropping the quill she'd been using to write with and looking up at the three friends as they entered.

"We're going to get out of here before it's too late. Thank you for all your help," he said.

"You're welcome, Mr. Potter. You're very, very welcome!" she replied.

Harry looked back at her awkwardly. "Well… Goodbye." He drew on the Invisibility Cloak and held it open for his friends.

Rolanda gasped involuntarily as the three friends disappeared. Unsure how to reassure her, Harry simply chose to say nothing. The three friends made their way to the door and left.

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As these things usually go, the three friends made it all the way back to the lift without incident. They got in and took it all the way back to the Atrium without even so much as a close call. Harry had even begun to hope that they'd make it all the way back to the Apparition area, but as soon as the lift doors opened to reveal the Atrium, that half formed hope was dashed into so many tiny pieces.

It looked like the whole of the _Daily Prophet_ had turned up. No, it looked the whole of the wizarding press had, from all corners of the globe. Dozens upon dozens of witches and wizards crowded the large room, pads of paper and quills in their hands and press badges pinned to their hats.

"There's no way we're going to make it through that," Ron whispered. The press made a literal wall between them and the Apparition area. Try as they might, Harry knew Ron was right; there was no way they were going to sneak through that crowd.

"Well it doesn't look like we have much choice," Harry said apprehensively. "It was going to happen eventually. Let's get behind the security desk and take off the Cloak."

They crept quickly out of the press's line of sight and removed the cloak. The security guard noticed them out of the corner of his eye, turned, and gaped at the three friends.

Harry put one finger up to his lips. Thankfully, the guard was smart and understood Harry before he regained the ability to speak. Harry led Ron and Hermione back around the guard house.

"IT'S HIM!" someone shouted. As one, the mass of reporters began ruthlessly shoving each other to get closer. More than a few cries of pain issued from its depths as a few unfortunate souls fell.

"STOP!" Harry bellowed at the top of his lungs. They didn't listen, but he hadn't expected them to. Still, he had to try.

"_Protego!_" he said forcefully. An invisible wall leapt from his wand, sealing the narrow gap between the three friends and the crowd of overzealous reporters.

They collided with the wall and rebounded, then immediately began asking questions at random.

"Mr. Potter, what have you been doing for the last two months?!"

"How does it feel to be a hero, Mr. Potter?!"

"Where have you been? Why are you in hiding? Is there still a threat?!"

It went on for minutes. The reporters asked so many questions Harry couldn't even give a single answer. When the constant barrage of barely intelligible sentences became unbearable, with his irritation level reaching its breaking point, Harry shouted, "SHUT UP!"

Surprisingly, they did. Harry massaged the bridge of his nose under his glasses before he continued, "We're going to answer _some_ of your questions. And then you're going to get out of our way, so we can go home.

"If any of you have a problem with that, I will go back down to the Minister's office and he can arrange for you all to be removed by security, without a single answer from us."

He looked around the group of witches and wizards, each and every one of them at least several years older than him, and said, "_Does_ anyone have a problem with that?"

No one answered. Taking that to mean they didn't, Harry pointed at one of the witches near the front of the mass of reporters. "You; what's your question?"

Is You-Know-Who really—,"

"Use his name," Harry interrupted coldly. "His name was Lord Voldemort." The collective flinch that passed through the crowd would have been amusing once.

"Dumbledore always said that fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself," he continued. "But it also gives the enemy an advantage."

He paused briefly to survey the crowd, "I used to find it only a little bit irritating how you people reacted to his name. But I've lost all patience with it now. You're fear of his name nearly got me killed. It got Hermione tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, it _did _get Dobby killed.

"Your fear of that name nearly crippled the entire resistance," he continued. "Because only people serious about defying Voldemort used his name, he was able to put a Taboo on it and nearly catch several of the members of the resistance.

"I won't tolerate it anymore," he said forcefully to the stunned crowd. "If you expect any more answers, you'll use his name."

He pointed at another witch. He watched her wrack her brains for a good question, her brow pinched in concentration, her eyes slightly fearful after his outburst. Finally, she asked, "Mr. Potter, the entire wizarding world wants to know how you managed to defeat V-V-Voldemort. When…" she paused as if expecting a bolt of lightning to lance out of nowhere and strike her down, "When are you going to give a full interview, and with whom?"

"We don't plan to give an interview," Harry waited as the crowd burst into exclamations of disbelief. It took a while to die down, but when it did he continued in a level tone that belied his lingering anger, "The three of us haven't had the best experiences with the press," he looked significantly at the people arrayed behind his Shield Charm, "so we're writing an autobiography instead. That should answer most of your questions. You'll just have to be patient."

He pointed at a tall, chubby wizard, who asked, "Why are you currently in hiding, and why did you come out of it to testify for the Malfoys?"

Harry chuckled darkly. "Why am I in hiding? Are you serious? Look around you; I had to cast a Shield Charm to prevent you from trampling us. You harass Mr. Weasley, who's not even our Secret Keeper, every other day. My school friends tell me they've had to practically fight you off every other week.

"It should be obvious why I'm in hiding," he said.

"If you had simply answered a few questions—,"

"If I had answered a few questions, you'd have just asked a few more, and a few more after that," Harry said coldly. "I don't trust the press to tell my story honestly, and it's far too long to fit into an interview. And it _definitely _wouldn't work told piecemeal.

"As for why I testified for the Malfoys, my testimony should answer your question and I don't feel like giving it again. Get it from someone else."

He pointed wordlessly at a small witch before anyone could interrupt. "Mr. Potter, it's well known that you never supported Fudge's and Scrimgeour's administrations. Do you support the current Minister's?" she asked.

"Of course," Harry replied. "Kingsley's an old friend of mine. I fully support him as Minister." He could tell they were waiting for more, but he didn't give it to them. The Order of the Phoenix was safest when it was secret.

He pointed at another wizard, this one wearing a dark burgundy cloak and square glasses. "Is it true you survived the Killing Curse again?" he asked.

Harry sighed. "Yes," he said simply. Predictably, the crowd of people burst into surprised murmuring.

"How?!" one of the witches at the front asked.

"It's a very long story, and I'm not going to try and summarize it for you lot. It'll be in the book; you'll just have to wait for that.

"One more question," he said as he pointed at a small witch in pine-green robes, "Make it a good one."

The witch glanced around nervously. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she said, "What do you plan to do now that Hogwarts is closed? We know you never got your N.E. …"

Her certainty at its closure touched a nerve, and Harry made a snap decision. "Hogwarts is never closed so long as a single student wants to attend," he said, echoing Professor Sprout's sentiment after Dumbledore's death. "And you're looking at three."

Silence met his words, and Harry could clearly hear Ron stifle a groan. He didn't wait for anyone else to say something but simply waved his wand, forcing his Shield Charm to advance. "Now if you'll excuse us, we'd like to get back to work on our book."

The crowd seemed to hesitate for a moment, but eventually they parted to allow the three friends through. Harry didn't give them the chance to change their minds but instead hurried to the Apparition area and, linking arms with Ron and Hermione, they Disapparated together.


	4. What Makes a Hero?

**Harry Potter: Who is the Man Behind the Legends?**

How much do we really know about Harry James Potter? And how much can we learn when he is unwilling to speak to the press? Apparently not all that much, _writes Emilia Youngstein, special correspondent._

Mr. Potter and his friends Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger visited the Ministry in order to testify for the Malfoy family last Friday. Their testimony was instrumental in a judgment of leniency for the Malfoys, as has been previously reported.

Though Mr. Potter answered several questions after the trial, in the process revealing his intent to release an autobiography and attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the upcoming school year, his answers and the testimony he provided at the Malfoys' trial simply raised more. His claims, supported by eyewitness testimony from the Malfoys themselves, seem to illustrate just how little we understand about The Boy Who Lived.

It was with this thought in mind that the _Daily Prophet _began to make a concerted effort to learn the truth about Mr. Potter's life and Mr. Potter himself.

We consolidated previous interviews conducted after the Battle of Hogwarts and conducted dozens more, and what we found surprised us. Having questioned nearly everyone who attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the same time as Mr. Potter, we learned just how tumultuous an education Mr. Potter has had.

In his first year at Hogwarts, multiple sources report, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger allegedly defeated a Mountain Troll and won their House, Gryffindor, the House Cup, in a massive flurry of awarded points for such innocuous things as "the best played game of Chess Hogwarts [had] seen in many years."

It is unknown why these points were awarded, save that they were awarded by Dumbledore himself, giving some indication of their significance. Though there are plentiful rumors about them, many are far too outlandish to reprint.

In his second year, Mr. Potter was revealed to be a Parseltongue just as, allegedly, the Chamber of Secrets was opened. Myths surrounding the Chamber of Secrets state that the Chamber was built by Salazar Slytherin himself to house the Monster of Slytherin, a monster that was said to target only Muggle-borns.

Though again many rumors can be readily heard regarding Mr. Potter's second year, very few concrete facts exist. At least, in a venue we have been able to access, but more on that later.

What we do know is that Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger each received Special Awards for Services to the School, and if one were to base their conclusions on the many rumors surrounding their second year, then one might conclude that Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger resealed the Chamber of Secrets at the tender age of twelve.

Though such a conclusion would normally have gone dismissed as fantastical, the persons involved have been very firmly established to exceed the ordinary.

In their third year, the convicted mass murderer Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban. The Ministry of Magic saw fit to station nearly a hundred Dementors around the school, and it was the general concern that Sirius Black would attempt to gain entry, as Ministry officials confirmed at the end of the year he did.

Several corroborating rumors state that Mr. Potter repelled almost the entire compliment of Dementors with a single corporeal Patronus, though for what reason and under what circumstances we have only third and fourth hand rumors. Given his later-confirmed ability to conjure a Patronus, however, it can be concluded that Mr. Potter may well have done so.

His fourth year at Hogwarts is perhaps the most thoroughly documented, given the fact that Mr. Potter gave an exclusive interview regarding the events of the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Mr. Potter gave further evidence at the Malfoys' trial that would suggest that He-Who-Must-Be-Named had infiltrated Hogwarts.

His fifth year was marred by the arrival of Dolores Umbridge, former Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Ms. Umbridge, who at the time was serving as professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, has so far evaded capture for her role in He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's puppet government.

Several sources claim that Mr. Potter and his friends established a secret society during this time, but the nature of that society remains elusive. Once again, few facts are available, despite the _Daily Prophet_'s efforts to find them.

It can be guessed that this secret society had something to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts, given the nature of Ms. Umbridge's teaching style and the fact that at least two suspected members of said society were present at the Ministry of Magic when it was revealed that He-Who-Must-Be-Named had indeed returned.

His sixth year is by far the most mysterious. Though there are rumors aplenty regarding his previous years at Hogwarts, which have been instrumental in piecing together even this much about Mr. Potter's life, there are virtually no rumors that are anything more than hearsay about the events of Mr. Potter's sixth, and final, year at Hogwarts.

At the end of that year, Albus Dumbledore was murdered by long-time Potions Master Severus Snape, and Mr. Potter was reported to have been in the company of Dumbledore in the final hours of his life. Some sources even claim that Mr. Potter was present when Mr. Snape committed the murder.

This demonstrably short list of facts is all that we have been able to gather, beyond standard schoolyard gossip. Though much of the student body was very cooperative, the vast majority of their information was unfounded or provably false.

What has been found however is that, while these students were all too happy to recount stories, a select group of students and the entirety of the faculty refused consistently and categorically to give any information about Mr. Potter or his companions.

It would likely be safe to conclude that these reluctant individuals were among Mr. Potter's closest friends.

If it is true that you can glean much about a person by the people they associate with, what then can be said about Harry Potter when his closest friends are such an eclectic bunch?

Hagrid, the half-giant gamekeeper and Professor of Care of Magical Creatures for Hogwarts, regarded by many as one of Mr. Potter's oldest friends. Many students report seeing them together as early as his first year at Hogwarts, and are perfectly willing to recount watching the three friends visit the gamekeeper in his house on the grounds an innumerable number of times.

Neville Longbottom, the oft-mocked Gryffindor that was in the same year as Mr. Potter, known by the entire school for most of his education as a clumsy, forgetful boy that was constantly losing Gryffindor House points. Mr. Longbottom, whose parents had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange, was one of three students (other than Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger) found in the Ministry of Magic the night He-Who-Must-Be-Named returned.

Luna Lovegood, daughter of Xenophilius Lovegood, the editor and sole proprietor of the _Quibbler_, was another student present at the Ministry of Magic. Though many at the school knew her better as "Loony" Lovegood, another frequently mocked student.

In addition to these is the entire Weasley family (the family that many sources claim had all but adopted Harry), the entire faculty, and even scattered reports of a continued friendship with Remus Lupin, werewolf and former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and Dobby, former house elf of the Malfoy family whom several sources report was initially freed by Mr. Potter and whom Mr. Potter himself reported was killed.

A remarkably small list for such a popular student, and all the more interesting for its diversity. Though it would be natural to assume that Mr. Potter had in some way enjoyed his fame, the presence of so few and so disparate characters in his inner circle of friends suggests a much more humble personality.

This is in direct contrast to the reports of those students willing to divulge what they knew, who claimed he enjoyed his fame and sought more at every opportunity.

With so much uncertainty and so few facts about Harry Potter available, even after two months of research by almost the entirety of the _Daily Prophet_ and many other news institutions, we are forced to conclude that we will only know the full story once Mr. Potter chooses to release it.

The people closest to him, those that know the facts about his life and not just the rumors, aren't talking and only so much information can be gleaned from rumors.

With an autobiography on the way, our only choice is to wait. Let us all hope that Mr. Potter doesn't keep us waiting too long.

Hermione snorted as she finished reading the article aloud. "'_Only choice is to wait_,'" she scoffed, tossing the issue of the _Daily Prophet _to the foot of the bed. "Hardly. If Kingsley hadn't told them to stop harassing students, they'd dig and dig until they found out whether or not you have a Hungarian Horntail tattoo on your chest!"

Harry, Ron, and Ginny laughed at that. The four of them were sitting around in Ron and Harry's bedroom. Ginny sat next to Harry on his bed, her head leaning on his shoulder, while Hermione and Ron sat cuddled on Ron's bed.

"Still," Hermione began in mock-contemplation, "they did get one thing right."

"Yeah?" Harry said sarcastically. "Which part? I was surprised how much they managed to piece together, actually."

"All of that was readily available information," Hermione dismissed. "It was bound to come out. No, I was going to say that they were right about you and your friends."

"How do you mean?" he asked, genuinely curious this time.

"You did manage to make friends with all of the most unlikely people," Hermione replied. "And I think they're right; it does say something about you."

He looked back uncomfortably.

"You _are_ humble," Hermione said. A small smile spread across her lips, "Though I'd probably say 'humble to a fault.'"

It was Ginny's turn to snort, "I agree with that. 'Humble to a fault.' Yeah, that describes you perfectly."

"Hey!" Harry said indignantly. "Aren't you supposed to be on my side?"

"It's sort of true though mate," Ron said, smiling. "How many times have we tried to convince you that you've done a bang up job acting the hero? How many times have you made us rewrite it?"

"That's only because you keep exaggerating!" Harry replied, trying to keep the very real irritation from his voice.

"No we don't, Harry!" Hermione said, sitting forward. "We're giving our side. It's fine if you tell yours all dry and humble, but it always looked different to us. Even though we were right there with you, it _always _looked different."

"Hermione, just stop," Harry snapped, unable to keep his irritation from his voice this time. "I don't want to talk about this again." Two months of pent of guilt and frustration seemed to resurface inside him as he spoke. "I'm not a hero, Hermione. You and Ron keep trying to make me seem like a hero."

"But you _are,_ Harry!" Hermione countered. "All the things you've done, all the people you've saved, all that _makes_ you a hero!"

"I'm not a hero!" Harry said, and he was only mildly surprised to find that he was shouting. He removed his arm from Ginny and shoved himself to his feet. Standing over Ron's bed, he continued, "Too many people have died for me to be a hero! Over and over again they died for me, and over and over again I let them! Why can't you understand that?!"

Hermione looked back in shock, and Ron looked at a loss for words. A deep silence spread throughout the room.

"Hermione, Ron, could you leave us alone for a moment?" Ginny said softly. Hermione looked from her to Harry and back. She gave a small nod and slid off the bed, with Ron close behind.

Harry turned around to face Ginny as she got to her feet. He stared at her in what he hoped looked like defiance, but she simply took his hand, led him back to his bed, and pushed him firmly back down onto it. He complied without even thinking about it.

Standing imperiously over him, she said, "Harry, you need to understand some things. You need to understand that everyone who's died did so on their own terms. Your parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, and all the rest died because they _chose_ to put themselves at risk for _you_. You need to understand that these people _loved _you. They cared enough about you to put their lives in danger for you.

"When I was eleven, you came for me to the Chamber of Secrets. You killed a basilisk and defeated Voldemort to save me, just because I was Ron's younger sister! I hadn't even spoken to you properly yet!" she said. "But you cared enough about me to risk your life to save me, and you almost died in the process.

"I ask you: how is that any different from what your parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, or Lupin did?" she asked.

"Because they died!" Harry replied in what he hoped was a confident way.

"So because they died trying to save you their reasons were somehow different?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Because they didn't happen to have a phoenix handy their choice to act was somehow different?"

She looked down at Harry, "No. That's not how it works. They understood the risks when they showed up and they were willing to take them for _you._ You can't beat yourself up for _their _choices or you'll go mad. I guarantee none of them would want that."

"Ginny, how can I possibly accept that?" Harry asked. "Everyone thought I was special! They thought I was something I'm not; that I could do what no one else could! I never earned that! I was never the best, I was never the smartest. Everything I've ever done I only did because I had help. Dumbledore, Hermione, Ron, even you were always there!"

"Harry you may have had help but it was _you_ leading the charge. And it was always just you at the very end," Ginny whispered kindly. "_You_ stopped Voldemort from getting the Sorcerer's Stone. _You _killed that Basilisk. _You _saved Buckbeak and Sirius. _You _killed Voldemort.

"Sure you had help. No one could have done what you did alone!" Ginny persisted. "People didn't believe in you just because they thought you were the Chosen One; they believed in you because you'd done the impossible four times. You'd escaped Voldemort with your life four times before your sixteenth birthday!"

"I got lucky Ginny!" Harry shouted as he sprung to his feet. Ginny stepped back reflexively to give him room in the small room. He began restlessly pacing the length of it. "I didn't do those things with skill or special powers!"

"No, you did it with bravery and quick thinking!" Ginny replied. "You did it with nerve and by keeping a cool head when anyone else would have broken down! You think Hermione could have done what you did in in the Chamber of Secrets? You think Ron or Fred or Lupin could have faced Voldemort in that graveyard alone at your age, surrounded by Death Eaters? You were fourteen Harry yet you faced down Voldemort and won! It doesn't matter how you did it, it doesn't matter if you had help. It only matters that you had the _courage _to do it at all.

"People didn't follow you because you were the most skilled wizard. They followed you because you had the courage to stand up when all they wanted to do was hide! When the Ministry sullied your name and the _Prophet _painted you as deranged, you stood up! You spoke the truth when the entire wizarding community wanted desperately to believe you a liar!" Ginny continued passionately. "You made your voice heard in spite of them."

"You weren't at Hogwarts last year; you didn't hear the whispers going around. With the Carrows given free reign at the school everyone was too scared to talk around the staff. But there were so many _whispers_ about you Harry. You were on the run and the simple fact that you hadn't been caught gave us all hope. Every time one of the D.A. was caught and tortured, we remembered you. Every time one of us was taken out of school to use for blackmail, we remembered _you_.

"We remembered you and kept fighting. Over and over again, after everything the Carrows did, we kept fighting. You staying free in spite of the manhunt that was after you was an inspiration. If three students just like us could defy Voldemort himself, how could we possibly fear two washed up Death Eaters?

"Then when you broke into Gringotts and escaped _again _the whole _world_ knew what we'd been whispering for months. They _knew _that you were a man who could stand up for all of us. That you were a man that had the courage to fight back when all any of us wanted to do was keep our heads down! That you weren't out there hiding to save your own skin like the Death Eaters had tried to convince us you were. That you were out there fighting a war alone!"

"But Ginny I—," Harry tried to interrupt.

"Shut up and listen," Ginny commanded before continuing, "You're not the strongest or the smartest or the most skilled but by the time you showed up at Hogwarts this year everyone already _knew _that there wasn't a braver soul alive. Seventeen and already carrying the world's hopes on your shoulders without slouching!

"Anyone in Britain would have been honored to die for you Harry because you gave us hope. After all the fear Voldemort spread, the thought of a man that could defy Voldemort again and again and again without falling gave us hope.

"Your bravery got you through _everything_ and it was the one thing all of us saw. It's the one quality you can't make an excuse for and it's the one quality that got you through so much. A weaker person would have failed half a dozen times before now no matter how much help they received or how lucky they got. But you didn't.

"You say you didn't earn their sacrifice?" she asked. "You say they were wrong to believe in you?

"Ha! You're too selfless for your own good is what I say."

"Ginny I—," Harry tried to say something to respond but couldn't come up with anything.

"Just think about it Harry. The rest of us thought you were worth dying for," Ginny said softly. "Try thinking about what could cause that instead of why you don't deserve it."

With that, Ginny turned around and left the room, leaving behind a remarkably speechless Harry.


End file.
